


Vengeance and Mercy

by TazzyJan



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyJan/pseuds/TazzyJan
Summary: The price of vengeance can be cheap.  No more than a handful of coins if you know the right people.  The cost, however, can turn out to be much higher.For Snow_Glory who wanted Portamis.





	Vengeance and Mercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snow_Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Glory/gifts).



They came out of nowhere. One moment he and Renault were riding along, headed back to Paris after the completion of their run of the mill mission, and the next they found themselves surrounded by half a dozen armed men.

“Renault,” Aramis called out, worried for the young man with him. He need not have bothered.

“Throw down your weapons, Aramis,” Renault said as he reined his horse over to stand next to the other men.

“What is the meaning of this?” Aramis demanded hotly, his temper flaring at the other man’s obvious betrayal.

“Make sure he never makes it back to Paris,” Renault said, ignoring Aramis as he handed over a pouch of coins. “And don’t make it quick.”

“Pissed you off, did he?” the leader of the group chuckled.

“He forced himself on my sister,” Renault replied. 

“I never touched your sister,” Aramis said, still hoping to restore some sanity to what was happening. He was good but he was no match for half a dozen armed men. He could try to outrun them but a single musket ball would be the end of any such flight.

“And a liar to boot,” Renault said as he turned away.

“And what will you tell them when you return to the garrison alone?” Aramis called out.

“That we were on our way home and you sent me on while you made a... stop. I’m fairly certain the Captain will believe me.”

“He won’t,” Aramis said.

“You heard him,” the one who was clearly in charge barked once Renault had ridden away. “Throw down your weapons. Or would you rather have a musket ball to the face?”

“Renault said not to make it quick,” one of the other men piped up.

“Yeah, well Renault ain’t here now is he? The only important part is making sure he don’t make it back to Paris alive. How we do that is up to us.” 

Aramis sized up the men partially surrounding him. If they thought he was simply going to surrender to them they were sadly mistaken. They had already made it clear they planned to kill him. What did he stand to lose by putting up a fight?

Gripping the reins tightly, he waited a heartbeat then spurred his horse and reined it hard to the left. If he could make it to the far tree line he stood a chance of losing them, or at least thinning their numbers a bit. He was nearly there when a shot rang out and he suddenly found himself pitched forward. He hit the ground hard, grunting with the impact. He lay stunned for a moment, then shook himself and rolled to his feet. Looking back, he saw his horse lying dead behind him, the bastards having shot it out from beneath him. 

With no time to spare, Aramis raced for the trees knowing they were his only hope. He could hear them coming up behind him, their horses bearing down on him. Suddenly, a booted foot took him between the shoulders sending him sprawling to the ground once more. He barely had time to make it to his hands and knees before another horse was riding practically over the top of him forcing him down once more. 

In the end, he lay curled on his side, his hands covering his head and his legs drawn up to try to protect his tender stomach. His captors sat on horseback in a circle around him, their mounts snorting and stomping so close to him it was a wonder he wasn’t trodden upon. 

“That wasn’t very smart,” one of them said as he dismounted and walked into the circle where Aramis lay. “But it was kinda fun. Think we might keep you around for a couple of days after all, Musketeer. See what other fun we can have.”

“Go to Hell,” Aramis spat from where he lay glaring up at the man. 

“You first,” was all the reply he got before the man fisted his hand in his hair and began dragging him roughly through the ring of horses back toward the clearing. 

Aramis cried out and clamped his hands around the man’s wrist as he was pulled along the ground. His body protested the rough treatment, his back screaming at being drug across the rocky ground so soon after being run down by the horses. His captor didn’t seem to care as he was hauled up against the lone tree in the small clearing and jerked to his feet. His hands were quickly lashed tightly behind it and a rope was wrapped round his neck for good measure and run down to his hands as well. He would not be working his way free any time soon that much was certain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Renault was whistling merrily when he rode back into the garrison imagining all the things Dunhill and his thugs were doing to a certain Musketeer. It was high time Aramis got what was coming to him. He only wished his sister had not had to be hurt before somebody had acted. But it was done now. He had made sure no other woman would suffer at that cad’s hands.

Giving his horse to the stable boy, he crossed the compound to the Captain’s office. He could feel Aramis’ companions’ eyes upon him but he didn’t care. He had his story all worked out and knew the Captain would not question him on it. 

“Come!” Treville barked when Renault rapped sharply on his door.

“Just reporting in, Captain,” Renault said.

Treville looked up at the young man and frowned. “Where’s Aramis?” he asked. 

“He, uh, well, that is…”

“Spit it out, man!” Treville snapped.

“He decided to make a stop along the way and sent me on,” Renault said trying hard to make himself blush.

“He did, did he?” Treville said, his eyes narrowing.

“Ah, yes, Sir,” Renault replied, shuffling from foot to foot under Treville’s scrutiny.

“Hm,” Treville snorted. “I’m sure he did. Renault, you are dismissed.” Treville watched him as he left, his eyes taking in the way he relaxed after being dismissed. All the men did, of course, but never to this degree. He waited what he considered a prudent amount of time then rose and headed for the balcony.

“You three,” he called down. “Up here. I have an assignment for you.” He quickly scanned the courtyard but saw no sign of Renault. That was good. The less attention he drew, the better.

“Close the door,” Treville said as soon as they were inside.

“Captain, where’s Aramis?” Porthos asked, unable to keep the question inside any longer. 

“According to Renault, he decided to make a stop on the way back and sent him on ahead,” Treville replied.

“That’s a damn lie,” Porthos snapped.

“I am aware of that,” Treville shot back. “Aramis would not leave in the midst of a mission, even one that was almost finished. He certainly would not leave a Musketeer still learning the ropes to make his own way back here. And I am quite aware, Porthos, that he would not be stopping for any ‘entertainment’ on the way home.”

“So why did Renault lie?” Athos asked.

“That is what you and d’Artagnan are going to find out.”

“And me?” Porthos asked.

“Find Aramis.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’d had to untie him when they stripped him of his doublet and shirt but that just gave them an excuse to tighten the rope around his neck until he was gasping and choking, unable to breathe, his face turning a dark crimson as he fought futilely. When they had grabbed his arms and pulled them back behind the tree once more, the rope still biting into his neck, cutting off any chance for air, he had felt helpless. Helpless and angry. If they were going to kill him then at least let him meet his death like a man, not bound to a tree having the life slowly choked from him.

“Aw, what’s ‘a matter?” Dunhill mocked. “Can’t breathe? Consider it a prelude of things to come.”

Aramis let his eyes glance upward at the limb a few feet above him and understood. The man meant to hang him when he was finally done toying with him. All things considered, he’d rather they just shoot him and dump his body in the woods. At least that way he wouldn’t have to worry about Porthos coming looking for him and finding him hanging from a trees, crows pecking at his sightless eyes. 

“My brothers will come for me,” Aramis panted when he could breathe again. “My death will not go unavenged.”

“That’s the beauty of this. There’s nothing tying us to you. Unless Renault goes and runs his mouth, your brothers won’t have any idea about us.”

Aramis didn’t reply, knowing he was right. Unless Renault starting bragging, no one would have any idea these men even knew him. And whether or not Renault started bragging depended entirely on how much he believed that ludicrous story he told about his sister. If it was simply an excuse to get these men to do his bidding then that was one thing but if he actually believed that he had attacked his sister…

Without warning, Aramis’ thoughts were brought back to the here and now by a harsh blow to his stomach. Bound to the tree as he was, he was unable to move with the blow giving the man’s fist the feel of a truncheon. Gritting his teeth, he vowed to weather the beating as long as he could, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. 

The one named Dunhill stood back and watched as two of his men worked him over, alternating between his soft stomach and his breakable ribs. Aramis knew that a broken rib, if driven in hard enough, could be as deadly as any blade. Perhaps he would not hang after all. Blow after blow landed, until he knew his entire midsection had to be one giant bruise. His ribs fared no better. The bastard had alternated, going from side to side, pounding him relentlessly until finally the sound of breaking bone rang out. 

“Took you long enough,” Dunhill said as he waved the men away and walked up to their prisoner.

Aramis hung in his bonds, trying his best to stand and keep the pressure from his throat. He was panting harshly as it was, the sharp end of his broken rib digging into his insides mercilessly. He tried not to think about ruptured organs or internal bleeding. There was nothing he could do about it anyway. 

“Bet that hurts,” Dunhill said as he pressed lightly against Aramis’ side, digging the broken rib in just the slightest bit more. 

“Fuck you,” Aramis gasped as white hot pain cut through him like a knife. 

“Still got some fight in you. That’s good. Renault wanted us to take our time. After what you did to his sister, maybe we oughta make the punishment fit the crime.” As he spoke, Dunhill let his hand move steadily lower until it rested at Aramis’ hip. He gave him a moment to take in his words then slowly cupped him through his breeches. 

Aramis went still at the feel of his captor’s hand on him in so private a place. He had not taken these men for the sort to take such a liberty but he could see now he was mistaken. He barely managed to suppress a shudder at the thought of these bastards touching him, taking him. He was not meant for them. He was meant for one man and one man alone. He could only pray that Porthos found him before these men grew overly restless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Porthos headed out of the city as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. He has seen which way Renault had come in. That gave him a place to start. Treville had told him of their mission so he knew the general area but unless he asked Renault, which was out of the question, he had a lot of ground to cover. 

“Hold on, love,” he whispered as he turned his horse in the direction he thought Aramis most likely to have taken. “I’m coming for you.”

As Porthos took off in search of his wayward lover, d’Artagnan and Athos began a search of their own. Finding Renault was easy enough. He had headed to the nearest tavern. What was surprising was the fact that he sat drinking in a corner alone. Renault was young. He tended to be loud and brash. For him to drink alone when there were other Musketeers about to drink with was strange. 

Not wanting to be seen, they did not stay. It did not look like there would be much to find out there anyway. At least not then. Perhaps later, after Renault had left, someone might recall something. For now, the would pay a visit to his lodgings and see if anyone was home.

At his lodgings they were surprised to find a young woman standing just inside the doorway. They quickly moved back, not wanting to be seen. As they carefully edged closer a young man came into view. From what they could see, he appeared to be the girl’s suitor. 

“We have to tell Renault the truth,” she said anxiously. “He’ll understand.”

“Your brother will run me through with a sword and you know it,” the young man said.

“We don’t have any choice. He thinks it’s that Musketeer’s,” she replied tearfully. “I won’t have everyone believing...”

“Alright, Lucinda. Come on, don’t cry. We’ll tell him. We’ll tell him tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I never touched his sister,” Aramis called out. The men had taken a break from beating him to have dinner. It wasn’t much, but even the smell of it was enough to get his sore stomach rumbling. He gave himself a mental rebuke, knowing he wasn’t going to be offered any. 

“Renault says different,” Dunhill said from where he sat next to the warm fire. “Says you forced her. Got her in the family way even. Says you done it more than once.”

“I’ve never even seen his sister,” Aramis tried to reason, the cool night air making him shiver. 

“Sure you haven’t,” Dunhill said as he rose and walked back over to the tree where Aramis was bound. “That’s what men like you always say. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. She was asking for it. You think just because you’re a Musketeer you can get away with it. Well not anymore.”

“And how much did he have to pay you to right this wrong for him?” Aramis challenged.

“Not as much as you’d think. Killing scum like you. Hell, I’d almost do that for free. A man’s gotta eat, though.”

“I think we should mess up that pretty face of his,” one of the men called out from around the fire.

“No, no,” Dunhill said. “We want to make sure he’s recognizable. But that don’t mean we can’t make sure whoever finds him don’t know just why he ended up like this.” As he spoke, Dunhill drew out a knife from his boot. Starting on the side where the rib wasn’t broken he began to carve.

“No!” Aramis cried out and tried to move away from the blade. Bound as he was, however, there was nothing he could do and he soon felt rivulets of blood running down his side.

When he was done, Dunhill stood back and admired his work. There, carved crookedly into Aramis’ side, was the word ‘RAPIST’. Now whoever found him would know why this was done to him. They would know he wasn’t the honorable Musketeer he tried to pass himself off as. They would know.

They left him like that all night, tied to the tree. The rope around his neck ensured that he could not sleep without strangling himself. The cold had left him numb yet the shivering it caused had made his rib feel like a hot knife gouging into him. By the time morning came, he was exhausted. The only thing keeping him awake was his refusal to give up. Porthos was out there, somewhere. He was coming for him. All he had to do was hold on until he got there. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Porthos was almost certain he was on the right track. He was sure the fresh prints leading along the trail belonged to Renault. The only problem would be if the man had doubled back to throw him off but he doubted if that was the case. He seemed entirely too sure of himself when he came strutting into the garrison, sure Treville would take his word for what happened and let it go at that. His cockiness would be his downfall. Porthos would see to that. And if anything had happened to Aramis because of him, then he’d better hope he had a head start.

As Porthos followed the trail, he was forced to slow. Even if this was the trail Renault had taken, that didn’t mean he had not left it at some point. He had to make sure he didn’t miss some sign of him entering the road. If he did, he might miss Aramis altogether. 

Thinking about his lover made Porthos’ heart twist in his chest. He hated the thought of him being out here alone somewhere. Even more worrisome was the thought of him _not_ being alone out here. If someone had him, if Renault had accomplices, then there was no telling what might be happening to him. But again, he had to ask himself why would Renault turn on Aramis? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have a good sleep?” Dunhill asked as he came over to renew his assault. 

Aramis remained silent, saving what strength he could for whatever trial was to come. It had been almost a full day. He knew Porthos was looking for him but there was no guarantee he was even looking in the right direction. And from the sneer on Dunhill’s face, he was done wasting time with him.

“Not much to say?” Dunhill taunted then kicked his feet out wide, making Aramis lose his balance, choking himself before he could get his feet back under him. He gave a jerk of his head and one of his men moved up behind Aramis. 

“What...?” Aramis managed before the rope around his neck was pulled tight, cutting off his air once more. He tried to remain still, waiting for them to let up but he soon found himself thrashing, unable not to fight. By the time they finally let up, he was gasping and wheezing, his throat hot and swollen from where the rope had squeezed it shut. He had long enough to meet his tormentor’s eyes before the rope was pulled taut again then all he knew was the fight to breathe until the blackness took him.

“Come on, wake up,” Dunhill said as he splashed Aramis in the face with a flask of water. “As much fun as this has been, we really do have to be going. And so do you.”

“You will hang for this,” Aramis rasped, trying one last time to reason with his captor.

“No, I won’t,” Dunhill said before turning to his men. “Cut him loose then tie his hands and put him on a horse. It’s high time we were done with this.”

Aramis tried his best to fight them but there were too many and he was too exhausted. When they cut him from the tree, he all but fell to his knees only to be dragged up again by his hair. He took a wild swing at one of them and earned a fist to the side of his face for it. Then his hands were jerked behind him and tied once more before he was hoisted up onto the back of a horse. 

Two men rode up on either side of him to hold him place. He glared at them defiantly as one of them placed a noose around his neck and snugged it tight. They moved back then, away from his horse, leaving him balanced upon the back of it. He had a moment to offer up a quick prayer before a sharp slap to the animal’s flank sent it running then he was being jerked back, the coarse fiber of the rope burning into his neck as he twisted and swayed, his legs kicking as his body instinctively fought to survive.

When Porthos broke into the small clearing he thought his heart might burst from his chest. For there, hanging from a tree, was his lover. He froze for precious seconds as Aramis twisted and jerked weakly, trying desperately to free himself. As he realized how weak those movements were becoming, Porthos spurred his horse hard. 

As soon as he reached the tree, he cut through the rope dropping Aramis to the ground. Jumping from the saddle, he knelt down next to the other man and quickly cut the noose from his neck then freed his hands. Rolling Aramis over onto his back, Porthos wanted to cry. His lover’s entire torso was mottled with black and purple bruises and it was clear at least one rib was broken. Worst of all, however, was the deep red abrasions around Aramis’ neck and the fact that he was even now barely breathing. 

“Please, love,” Porthos whispered as he gently pulled Aramis head into his lap. “Please. Just breathe for me. I’m here now. I won’t let them hurt you any more but you have to breathe for me.”

It took some time but Aramis’ breathing finally started to grow stronger. Porthos held him through it all, talking softly to him, letting him know that he was there and that he was safe now. He hated himself for taking so long to find his lover and nearly vomited at the realization that had he been even a minute later Aramis would have been dead.

When Aramis slowly started to blink his eyes open it was not to the Purgatory he had expected to find himself in. Not if Porthos was there as well, holding him in his strong arms. Perhaps he was in Heaven, but even he did not think Heaven so tolerant as to allow two sodomites to grace its hallowed halls.

“Hey there,” Porthos said softly. “You back with me now?”

“What...?”

“I got here... just in time,” Porthos admitted, looking away in shame. “You were hanging. I’m so sorry, love.”

“No,” Aramis croaked, his throat a raw, swollen mess. “No s-sorries. You s-s-saved me.”

“They got away,” Porthos told him, needing Aramis to know they were still out there.

“We... we will find...”

“Yes, we will,” Porthos vowed.

It was another little while before Porthos felt comfortable enough to leave Aramis alone even to search for his missing clothes. Luckily, they weren’t far, lying cast off next to the tree. His weapons and saddlebags were there as well. Whoever had done this was not interested in petty thievery. They had ambushed him with the sole intent of killing a Musketeer.

As Porthos surveyed the scene, he got a pretty good idea of what happened. The rotting carcass of Aramis’ horse told the story pretty well, as did the divot in the ground where his lover had landed after being thrown. Following Aramis’ footprints toward the tree line, he saw where they had run him down. Literally. It made Porthos see red to think of his lover being run down like that. One misplaced hoof could have easily killed him.

“Porthos...” Aramis called out weakly when the other man didn’t return after a few minutes. He hated the note of fear in his voice but he was as defenseless as a babe right now and totally exposed. 

“Sorry, love,” Porthos said as he hurried back to his side.

Aramis could see by the look on his face what he’d been doing and reached out to him. “I’m still here,” he said. “You came for me.”

Together, they got Aramis redressed with no small amount of pain. Porthos could tell right away that there was no way he could sit a horse, even with him to hold him up. Knowing it would sting his pride but having little choice, he lifted Aramis into his arms and swung up onto his horse.

“As if there was not already talk enough throughout the garrison about us,” Aramis joked as sweat broke out on his forehead from the movement.

“Let ‘em talk,” Porthos said. “Most of ‘em are just jealous anyway. They know what a catch I am.”

Aramis laughed weakly then grimaced as the bruised muscles in his stomach protested the movement. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “How could anyone resist your rapier sharp wit?”

The ride back to the garrison was slow going. Porthos did his best to jostle Aramis as little as possible. Still, the man was moaning and sweating with the pain before they were even half way there. 

“Tell me what I can do,” Porthos urged as he reined his horse to a halt under a nearby oak tree. 

“No-nothing,” Aramis stammered through clenched teeth. He saw the look on Porthos’ face at his words and tried again. “You are doing all that you c-can. There is no way to get me to the garrison save horseback and we need to let the Captain know about Renault.”

“He knows,” Porthos said darkly. “Doesn’t know why or what but he knows he had something to do with you going missing.”

“Oh,” Aramis said then paused. He wasn’t exactly sure he was up to explaining all of this right now. Not and have to do it again at the garrison. Once was going to be humiliating enough and that was assuming everybody believed him.

“You don’t have to say anymore,” Porthos said softly. “Not now. Not if you don’t want to. I don’t care about why right now. I’m just so damn glad I got you back.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” Aramis said, chuckling for a moment before turning serious again. “I hated that they were going to hang me and just... just leave me like that for you to find. I found myself wishing they would shoot me instead and dump me in the woods for the vermin to take care of. Anything but have you find my rotting corpse.”

“Don’t say that,” Porthos moaned, pulling Aramis to him tighter without thought. “We’re damn lucky they did what they did. A musket ball through the head, I couldn’t have saved you from that. I would have been too late.”

“I just didn’t want...”

“I know, love. I know.”

Porthos felt Aramis press into him the tiniest bit closer and his heart gave a lurch. With one slightly shaking hand, he tipped his lover’s face up so he could look down into his eyes. What he saw there had him leaning down and covering his mouth in a soft yet thorough kiss.

When they finally broke apart, both men were smiling. “Take me home, Porthos.”

The rest of the ride was just as slow if somewhat easier emotionally. Aramis still bore the physical toll, there was little they could do about that other than stop every few minutes and he simply refused. He wanted to be home, safe and sound in their rooms, where he could forget this nightmare ever happened. That, however, was not likely to be the case.

“He thinks I raped his sister,” Aramis said out of nowhere causing Porthos to nearly fumble his grip on him for an instant.

“Surely he is not so stupid as all that.”

“That is what he told the men he hired to dispatch me,” Aramis said with a shrug that turned into a grimace. 

“But why would he think such a thing? I didn’t even know you knew the girl.”

“I have no idea,” Aramis said, a bit hurt by Porthos’ words. So if he had known the girl would that have made a difference? “I didn’t even know he had a sister to begin with.”

“So he what, just lured you into an ambush?” Porthos asked, aware that something he had said had not sat right with his lover. 

“Yes. There were six or so of them. He handed me over and left telling the to make sure I never made it back to Paris. I made a run for the tree line but they shot my horse out from under me. After that...”

“They ran you to ground,” Porthos said grimly. “We’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“Well it wasn’t exactly my doing,” Aramis snapped.

“Hey, I’m not saying it was. You were led into a trap that any one of us would have been lucky to survive. Like I told you, I’m just thankful you did make it out alive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Porthos finally rode into the garrison with Aramis in his arms he was surprised at the commotion going on. Dismounting as carefully as he could, he carried Aramis toward the infirmary. The men, upon noticing him and his burden, parted like the sea. That was when Porthos got a look at what all the commotion was about.

On the other side of the garrison, Athos and d’Artagnan were escorting Renault and his sister toward the Captain’s office. For all that Renault was not clapped in irons it was clear that he was under arrest and his sister as well. 

The two groups met at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Captain’s office and paused. Athos started to say something but was drowned out by the wailing of the young girl he was escorting. She had taken one look at Aramis’ battered and bruised body and had broken down into tears. 

Unsure what to do at the sudden impasse, both parties stared at each other. “How bad is he?” D’Artagnan managed to ask.

“He’ll live but he needs a doctor,” Porthos replied.

“What the bloody hell is going on out here?” Treville demanded as he came out onto his balcony. One look at the scene below told him all he needed to know. “You four up here. Now. Porthos, get Aramis to the infirmary at once. Jacques, go and fetch a doctor for him and be quick about it.”

Orders given, Treville returned to his office to wait. He was unsure what part the young woman played in all of this but her presence made sense. The only thing was, Treville knew that Aramis had not had anything to do with this girl. Not unless the incident happened some years ago and she would have been much too young to even catch his eye then.

Treville’s contemplation was interrupted by the arrival of his men. He motioned for them to sit down, knowing this was going to take some time to unravel. The girl at least had managed to pull herself together some and was no longer crying. That was a good thing.

“Now does somebody care to explain to me just what in the hell has been going on?” Treville asked, his eyes boring into Renault’s forcing the man to look away.

“It’s my fault,” the girl spoke up surprising them all. “I caused it all.”

“How so?” Treville asked a tad gentler.

“I... I... I am with child,” she said flushing brightly. “My lover and I were afraid to tell my brother the truth. He has never liked Germaine. We were afraid he might call him out. So I said... I said...”

“You said it was Aramis’.” Athos finished for her in disgust.

“Yes,” she said, trying and failing to hold her tears at bay once more. “I didn’t think he’d do anything. I thought a fellow Musketeer, especially one of his renown, would be safe until we could find a way to tell Renault the truth.”

“And you did not care that you were naming an innocent man a rapist?” D’Artagnan asked, his fists clenched in anger. He had no idea what all had been done to his friend but it has not been good. And all because this little whore couldn’t own up to the fact that she couldn’t keep her legs together.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” she said, her voice small. 

“You didn’t think it would matter?” D’Artagnan repeated, rounding on her. “Yet it certainly mattered when it came time to tell your brother you couldn’t keep your legs shut.”

“Hey!” Renault said, surging to his feet only for Athos to jerk him back down.

“D’Artagnan, that’s enough.”

“Is it?” D’Artagnan challenged. “Do you think harsh words is all they did to Aramis? It certainly didn’t look like it to me.”

“You are not wrong,” Athos said. “But causing her to break down into histrionics again will serve no one. Now Renault, what exactly did your sister tell you?”

“She said that she was with child and that it was Aramis’ and that he had forced himself on her one night.”

“And you believed her?” Athos pressed.

“She’s my sister,” Renault replied.

“And Aramis was your brother Musketeer,” Treville snapped. 

“So what did you do once your sister told you this?” Athos continued. 

Renault told them all of it. He told them of hiring men, of planning the best place for the ambush, of giving them strict instructions to make sure Aramis never returned to Paris. When it was done, he was shaking as the magnitude of his actions finally set in. 

“Please, Captain,” Renault pled, his skin ashen. “I know I have no right to ask, but please don’t punish my sister for this. She was just a scared girl. I’ll take full responsibility for it.”

“Hm. I believe Aramis himself will have the final say so but I can see no reason why she cannot be incarcerated in your home rather than the Bastille as it is no place for pregnant woman. As for you, however, you will be remanded to the Bastille until such time as Aramis is healed enough to attend your execution by firing squad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks for getting here so quick, Doc,” Porthos said.

“You know Musketeers are my best patients,” the doctor replied. “Now let’s get him out of some of these clothes and cleaned up a bit so we can see what we’re dealing with.”

“Ah, I don’t...” Aramis stammered. He didn’t want them to see what Dunhill had carved into his side but he also knew he couldn’t hide it forever.

“What is it?” Porthos asked.

“Nothing,” Aramis sighed. 

“Then let’s just get these clothes off of you and get you cleaned up. We can figure out where to go after that,” the doctor suggested. He knew something was wrong. He had treated Aramis many times in the past and he had never acted like this. It was actually starting to worry him and he wanted to see what condition the man was in now.

Porthos worked together with the doctor to carefully remove Aramis’ doublet and shirt. Even covered in dirt and grime, the horrible bruises stood out, as did no small amount of blood running down his right side. 

“Do we need to remove your breeches as well?” the doctor asked kindly.

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “They were content with my stomach and ribs.”

“And hanging you,” Porthos snarled under his breath.

“We shall get to that,” the doctor said. “Let’s get him cleaned up a bit first and see what we’re dealing with here for now.”

Aramis looked up, locking his eyes on the ceiling as they cleaned his chest and stomach. He heard Porthos suck in a breath as his side was finally revealed and couldn’t stop himself from flushing in shame. It was such a horrific moniker and now he would bear it for the rest of his days.

“Calm yourself,” the doctor said, patting him on the shoulder lightly as he began to examine the wound more closely. “This was done in haste. The wounds, they are shallow. I doubt it will scar except in a place or two and those will be unrecognizable.”

“Are you sure?” Aramis asked hopefully.

“I’m positive. And if you could get a good look at it yourself you’d know as well. This wasn’t meant to be a burden to you but rather to the ones that found you, I believe.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said, relaxing for the first time since they had began treating him. 

“You okay?” Porthos asked as he leant down, his mouth next to Aramis’ ear. He took a chance and slipped his hand into his lover’s, needing to feel him.

“I am now,” Aramis told him. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Porthos whispered.

“I didn’t want you to know,” Aramis admitted. 

A few moments later, the doctor approached and they were forced to part. “You can talk all you want once we have seen to his injuries,” he said. “Now help me with his ribs.”

All in all, two ribs were broken though no damage appeared to be done to his lungs or any of the surrounding organs. The doctor got Porthos to help him set them back into place and wrap them. He checked his bruised and swollen stomach next and, though tender and painful, nothing appeared damaged. His back and shoulders, while bruised as well from being run down by the horses, were not overly damaged either. The abrasions on his throat and wrists would heal in a few days as well. The doctor gave them a tea to brew for pain that would also help with his throat and stern instructions that the patient was to remain in bed until the swelling in his abdomen had gone down. 

“I don’t want to say here,” Aramis said once the doctor had left.

“Let me see about a cart and I’ll take you home,” Porthos replied.

“I can walk,” Aramis chuckled.

“You have two choices here. You can ride in a cart or I can carry you through the streets. Either one is fine with me but those are the only two choices you have,” Porthos told him firmly.

Seeing that Porthos would not be moved in this, Aramis sighed. “Perhaps you could see about a cart?”

“I’ll just do that,” Porthos grinned. “Don’t go anywhere.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to Aramis’ lodgings was slow. Moving a cart through the streets of Paris always was. Aramis didn’t mind it overly much as Porthos had chosen to ride in the back with him while one of their fellow Musketeers drove the cart for them. It was clear that no one as yet knew what had happened other than the fact that Aramis had been abducted but that was more than enough to have them closing ranks around him and Porthos both. 

“You need anything from your rooms, Porthos?” Jacques asked as he helped Aramis from the cart. 

“No, I’ve got plenty here, thanks.” While Porthos kept a set of rooms at the garrison for propriety’s sake, everyone knew that this was his true home. 

Finally alone, Porthos took Aramis straight to the bed and sat him down. He kissed him briefly then hurried into the kitchen. A few minutes later he returned and sat down beside him. Taking his hand, Porthos held it tightly, relishing the feel of Aramis’ tight grip in return. 

“I almost lost you,” he said.

“But you didn’t,” Aramis assured him. “I am still here.”

“When I saw you hanging there, I froze.”

“Not for long or I wouldn’t be here.”

“No,” Porthos agreed. “Only for a few seconds. It was like my brain couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing.”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to see that. I knew how much it would hurt you.”

“Rather that than coming upon your corpse.”

“True,” Aramis inclined his head. “Are you alright, though? In all of this I have not once asked you that?”

“I was not the one betrayed and nearly killed.”

“Nearly killed, no, but betrayed, yes. Renault did not just betray me. He betrayed all of us, every Musketeer in the regiment. But most of all those closest to me. You don’t think Athos and d’Artagnan feel betrayed by his actions? I assure you, they do.”

“Perhaps,” Porthos conceded. “But I am not concerned with me right now. Nor should you be. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is getting better.”

“Yes, Doctor Porthos,” Aramis grinned.

“And we can definitely play that game. When you’re better,” Porthos told him making Aramis frown. He started to say something but the kettle went off in the kitchen stopping him. “Be right back.” Just as promised, Porthos returned a few minutes later. He had a pitcher, basin and towels with him and set them on the floor beside Aramis’ feet before kneeling down in front of him. 

“What are you doing?” Aramis asked.

“Taking care of you,” Porthos said softly. “Just because you’re not hurt doesn’t mean you don’t want to feel clean. Thought I’d clean you up and then tuck you into bed like the good doctor said.”

“Only if you plan to join me in this bed,” Aramis told him.

“I don’t think that’s what he had in mind, love,” Porthos said gently.

“I don’t care,” Aramis said firmly then let out a breath and softened his voice. “I need you. I thought I would never see you again. I need...”

“Alright,” Porthos quickly agreed, unable to deny Aramis anything on a good day. “But let me get you clean first.”

“Anything,” Aramis said with a nod.

Slowly, Porthos began to undress his lover. He started with his boots, then bade him stand and worked his breeches and smalls off. Seated once more, he slipped him out of his shirt until he sat naked before him, only the bandage on his side covering him. 

Porthos began with his right foot, lifting it and carefully bathing it with the steamy water he had poured into the basin then drying it. He worked his way up his lover’s leg to his knee then did the same to the other side. He moved back and forth, cleaning his way upward, leaving no part of him unwashed. When he felt Aramis stiffen when he touched his genitals he looked at him but his lover merely shook his head so he let it go for now and continued bathing him.

Once he had bathed him everywhere save for beneath the bandage for fear of aggravating the wound, he gently cleaned the rope burn around his neck. He knew it would fade but in the meantime it would be a stark reminder for both of them. With everything else bathed, Porthos had him spread his legs and hang his head down. Using the last of the clean water, he washed his lover’s hair, washing away the final bits of sweat and dirt and grime from him.

“Thank you,” Aramis said when he sat up again. He has not expected Porthos to bathe him so and certainly not his hair but he could not deny how good it felt to be clean again. 

“Feel better?” Porthos asked as he cleaned up the towels and basin.

“Yes, much better,” Aramis said. He watched Porthos carry everything into the kitchen then he was drying his hands as he came back out to join him.

“Hungry?” Porthos asked.

“Later,” Aramis said. Porthos had fed him a bit on the trip back to Paris and while he realized he should probably eat, food wasn’t what he needed at the moment.

Smiling, Porthos pulled back the covers on the bed and helped Aramis under them. He didn’t offer to help him redress, knowing that wasn’t what he wanted. Instead, he began to shed his own clothes. His lover wasn’t the only one that needed this but Aramis’ well-being came first.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Porthos asked.

“Yes,” Aramis told him. “I need you. I need to feel you next to me. Holding me. Inside of me. I just need you.”

Porthos felt his body give a jerk at Aramis’ words. Oh, how he wanted that. He wanted to be buried within his lover again, to prove to himself that he was still there, still with him. But he truly did not see how Aramis was going to be up to such. Not with two broken ribs.

“I want that,” Porthos said, licking his lips as he climbed into bed next to him. “I do. I just don’t see how...”

“I’ll be on top,” Aramis said. “That way you won’t put any pressure on my ribs or stomach.”

“Oh fuck,” Porthos said at the thought of Aramis riding him.

“You want that, Porthos? You want me to ride you? You want to lay there and watch me fuck myself on your cock?”

“Aramis...” Porthos groaned reaching down to squeeze his hard cock mercilessly. “We gotta... we gotta talk first.”

“About what?” Aramis asked, his own body hard at the thought of having Porthos inside him again.

“You flinched,” Porthos said. “Why?”

“It’s nothing,” Aramis said dismissively.

“Tell me.”

“Their leader, Dunhill, he touched me. Threatened to... do things. It never happened. He never did more than touch me and that was just once and through my leathers even.”

“I’m going to find him and kill him for you,” Porthos vowed. He saw Aramis start to protest and grabbed him, rolling him over on top of him. “But not right now. Right now, we got other things to worry about.”

“Really?” Aramis smirked as he ground down against his lover moaning at the feel of his hardness pressing into his hip. 

“Really,” Porthos growled as he reached up and sank his hands into Aramis’ freshly washed hair. He pulled his head down and took his mouth hungrily, thrusting his tongue in deep, tasting him and moaning.

“Porthos...” Aramis gasped when he broke their kiss. The feel of those strong hands man-handling him went straight to his cock just as they always did, even if Porthos was being gentler about it than he normally would be. 

“You gonna give me a show or do I get to finger you open?” Porthos grinned. 

If Aramis did it, it would be quick. Even when he tried to make a show out of it, he ended up rushing it, wanting his lover inside him already. On the other hand, if Porthos did it, it would be nice and slow until Aramis was begging him to fuck him already. Or, in this case, let him fuck himself.

“Which... which do you want?” Aramis asked as he ground against him, the feel of Porthos’ skin making him shiver.

“Not sure if you’re up to my kind of slow and easy right now,” Porthos said. “But don’t go rushing it. You’re hurting enough and don’t think I don’t know it.”

“I promise,” Aramis said breathlessly. “I’ll make sure I’m stretched enough. Get... get the oil from the bureau.”

Trusting his lover, Porthos reached over and grabbed the oil out of the bureau. He handed it to Aramis then put his hands on his lover’s hips to help steady him as he brought one leg up. He couldn’t help but moan as Aramis slipped oily fingers between his legs and began to move his hand. Any other time he would be trying to move him so he could see but he didn’t want to do anything to upset his balance and possibly hurt him so he stayed still and simply watched him as he fucked himself open on his fingers.

As Porthos lay there, he was surprised at how erotic he found it. He couldn’t see anything more than Aramis’ hand moving between his legs but it was enough to make his cock harden and drool against his belly.

When Aramis pulled his fingers free to add more oil and push in three both of them moaned. “Can’t take much more,” Aramis warned him. His own cock was rock hard as it curved up against his stomach. Even avoiding his prostate as he was he was still hard as stone just from the thought of having Porthos inside of him.

“Enough,” Porthos said, surprising them both. He took the oil from Aramis and slicked his cock then helped his lover move into place above him. He held onto Aramis’ hip with one hand and held his cock up with the other. He pushed up when Aramis pushed down and the head of his cock quickly slipped in.

“Oh,” Aramis moaned at the feel of Porthos breaching him. He paused for a moment, enjoying the feeling and letting his body adjust, then slowly began to sink down. He didn’t stop until he was sitting flush against Porthos’ groin, his bollocks snug against his ass. 

“Fuck, Aramis,” Porthos groaned. He gripped his hips with both hands and squeezed them tightly. He had to fight the urge to move them, to fuck Aramis up and down on his cock like he wanted. This was Aramis’ show. His lover was in control here and he needed to remember that.

“I’m about to,” Aramis chuckled. He lifted himself up about half way then sank back down again, moaning softly as he did. It felt incredible. They had never had sex like this before. He had ridden Porthos, of course, but he had never been in control of it, never taken it so painstakingly slow before.

“Yeah, fuck me, lover. Fuck me any way you want.”

“Gonna take you nice and slow,” Aramis told him. “Don’t want to stress my ribs after all. Who knows, maybe for once you’ll beg me to spend.”

Steadying himself on Porthos’ solid chest, Aramis began to slowly fuck himself up and down his lover’s hard cock. He kept the rhythm easy, not too slow, not too fast, only pulling up half way with each stroke. It was enough to keep Porthos hard but not even close to enough to make him come and they both knew it. 

Knowing he couldn’t keep this up forever, Aramis began to pick up speed, pulling up farther with each stroke as well. He was rewarded with a groan from his lover and the tightening of his hands on his hips and smiled down at him. As he fucked him, Aramis added that little twist Porthos liked so much, making his lover swear loudly.

“Please,” Porthos finally said. “Please, Aramis. Make me spend.”

“That’s it,” Aramis panted and moved up so that his hands were braced on Porthos’ shoulders. “Fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” Porthos asked, barely holding himself back.

“Yes, I’m bloody sure. Fuck me, Porthos,” Aramis said. “Please...”

That was enough for Porthos. Holding Aramis by the hips he began to fuck up into him. He tried not to use too much force, still wary of hurting him, but he only had so much control left. “Close,” he warned Aramis as he fucked up into him again and again, hoping his lover was close as well.

“Me, too,” Aramis assured him. “Spend for me, love. Spend for me. Spend for me.” Suddenly, Aramis froze then began to buck as his cock started to spurt, his spend striping Porthos’ chest. The combination of feeling Aramis’ body clamp down on him as well as seeing him spending across his chest was enough to push Porthos’ over the edge as well and he slammed up hard and began to spend inside of Aramis’ willing body.

Exhausted, Aramis collapsed on top of Porthos panting. Even the sticky mess between them wasn’t enough to make him move. Finally, Porthos gently turned them on their sides, sliding his spent cock free in the process and earning and a soft hiss.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m wonderful,” Aramis replied making Porthos chuckle.

“I meant are your injuries all still okay.”

“I know and they are fine. I am a bit of a mess, though.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll get us cleaned up.”

“Take your time,” Aramis said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Treville decided it would be best to wait until the next day before he, Athos and d’Artagnan paid the pair a visit. Athos, knowing his brothers, had agreed though d’Artagnan had been somewhat reluctant. When they did come to call they found Aramis in the sitting room on the sofa, his shirt mostly open revealing the extensive bruising and a large white bandage peaking through.

“I can see now why the doctor said bed rest for several days,” Treville said after getting his first good look at the man. “You will be observing that.”

“Yes, Sir,” Porthos replied before Aramis could.

“Well, we came by to fill you in on everything,” Treville said. “It would seem Renault’s sister found herself pregnant and rather than tell her brother the truth, blamed it on Aramis. She then compounded the lie by saying he forced himself on her. Renault, rather than attempt to substantiate any of this, decided to seek revenge. I do believe you know how that turned out.

“Renault has asked for any charges against his sister to be dropped, stating he will take full responsibility. I told him the final decision on such would of course be up to you, Aramis.”

“I don’t want the girl arrested,” Aramis said, shaking his head. “All she did was tell a lie. She had no idea what her brother would do. Besides, she is carrying a child. A prison is no place for a young mother.”

“I thought you might say as much,” Treville said. 

“Do you know anything of the men that took you?” Athos asked. “Renault has refused to name them, saying he alone should be held to blame.”

“Their leader’s name was Dunhill,” Aramis said. “I don’t believe they lived far from where they were holding me.”

“A small clearing about a half mile off the east road,” Porthos supplied. “They shot his horse so you’ll know you’ve got the right one by the carcass.”

“How many were there?” D’Artagnan asked. 

“Six, maybe seven,” Aramis replied. “That part’s a bit blurry.”

“Good enough,” Athos said. “We can start with this Dunhill.”

“I want to be a part of this,” Porthos said anger welling up inside of him.

“You have more important things to attend to,” Treville said.

“But...”

“I suppose we could move him back to the infirmary,” Treville mused.

“Never mind,” Porthos grumbled.

“If you wish to go with them,” Aramis said, “I can get along here just fine on my own.”

“No, Treville is right. My place is here. Athos and d’Artagnan can handle finding Dunhill and his lot. Besides, there’s a better chance of them bringing him in alive if I’m not with them.”

“There is that,” Aramis chuckled. For if it had been Porthos so sorely abused he would likely kill the animals that had hurt him, too.

“Aramis, consider yourself on leave until those ribs heal up. Porthos... you as well,” Treville said. “We’ll keep you updated as to the investigation and let you know when Dunhill and his lot are brought in.”

“Captain, what about Renault?” Aramis asked. 

“Renault has been found guilty of conspiracy, kidnapping and attempted murder. He’s currently in the Bastille awaiting execution by firing squad to take place as soon as you’re strong enough to attend.”

“Oh Captain, no,” Aramis said, aghast.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Treville sad.

“What good does an execution do anyone?” Aramis asked.

“It removes a would-be murderer from society,” Treville said.

“He is not a would-be murderer and you know it. He was avenging his sister’s honor. Granted it was based on a lie and he went about it in a rather heinous fashion but...”

“You’re not seriously arguing for this animal, are you?” Porthos demanded.

“Well I don’t mean to just let him off,” Aramis said. “But I don’t believe an execution benefits anyone either. His sister is with child. She is likely going to need support from him.”

“I don’t give a damn about his sister,” Porthos said.

“Well I do,” Aramis replied softly. 

“Then Aramis what would you like to see done?” Treville asked.

“I... I am not sure,” Aramis admitted. “Could you hold him in the Bastille for now until I’ve had some time to think about it? Perhaps we can come up with something that doesn’t require the ending of a life.”

“I’m not thrilled with the idea,” Treville admitted. “For one thing, he sullied the name of the Musketeers as a whole, but you are the one who was wronged. If you wish to pursue alternate methods of punishment then we can discuss them but I am not promising anything.”

“Good enough,” Aramis said quickly.

Treville left after that, afraid of what he might be asked for next if he stayed. That left Athos and d’Artagnan behind. Both of which were looking at him like they’d never seen him before. 

“What is it?” Aramis asked, trying hard not to meet Porthos’ eyes right now.

“Oh I was just wondering what you were going to want done with Dunhill when we brought him in,” Athos said. “Muck out the stables for a week, perhaps?”

“That’s different,” Aramis said weakly.

“Different how exactly?” Athos asked. “Different because Renault didn’t get his hands dirty but Dunhill did? Because, in truth, that’s the only real difference here.”

“Then perhaps I am simply trying to be merciful to a man who is little more than a boy,” Aramis offered. “He made a mistake. More than one. And I think, if he had tried to do the deed himself, he would not have been able to. That’s the difference, Athos. When actually faced with it, I believe Renault would know the difference between right and wrong while Dunhill simply did not care.”

“I see there is no swaying you in this,” Athos sighed. “I shall do as you wish, brother, even though I disagree with it. Rest assured, though, we will find these men and we will bring them in. What you wish done to them, that is between you and the Captain.”

“Thank you,” Aramis told him.

Aramis waited until they were alone before turning to Porthos. “I know you are not happy with me,” he began.

“It is your decision,” Porthos said trying to stop the conversation before it could even start.

“Porthos?”

Porthos sighed. “No, I am not happy with what you did. I want to see them pay for hurting you. I want to know they can never hurt you again. Even Renault. Especially Renault. But that isn’t what you want.”

“It’s just...” Aramis began then trailed off in frustration

“Just what?” Porthos asked encouragingly. 

“He’s just a boy,” Aramis tried to explain. “Yes, he made a mistake. A very bad one. And yes, it nearly got me killed but he did not do it for... for gain, or power, or evil. He was trying to avenge his sister. I have a hard time finding fault with that.”

“So hiring people to kill someone...”

“Yes, his method was wrong,” Aramis said. “Very wrong. But does it warrant a death sentence?”

“Aramis... I love you. More than life, I love you. If you don’t want Renault executed then... then I don’t want him executed either. I will never go against your wishes, especially in something so important. So when you get ready to talk to the Captain let me know and we’ll go together. He can’t say no to the both of us.”

“Thank you, my love. For everything.”

End.


End file.
